by Robin James
“I’m fine,” Aubrey more or less whispered. “Good to sleep in my own bed.”
“Diane’s packing some things,” Dan said. “I think it’s best if she and Sean go stay with her mom in Chelsea for a few days. In fact, I wanted to ask you if it’s okay if Aubrey went with them.”
“No,” I said. “I’m afraid that’s a horrible idea where Aubrey is concerned. She needs to stay in the county at a minimum. She was released on the condition she’d be living here. No matter what else happens while this case is pending, we will be following court orders to the letter. Even if you don’t agree with them.”
“Right,” Dan said. “Oh ... uh ... can I get you something to drink before we get started?”
I turned to him. “I’m fine. Thanks. And I need to speak with Aubrey somewhere private. This isn’t a family meeting. Not right now. I hope you understand.”
Dan creased his brow and his face flushed with color. He recovered quickly though. “Er ... yeah. Of course. I’ll just make myself scarce and see if I can help Diane back there.”
I kept a polite smile on my face as Dan disappeared through the back of the house. For her part, Aubrey had sunk even further into the couch. I did not like the vibe at all. But I reminded myself she was a still a nineteen-year-old kid. And she was scared to death.
I sat down beside her and pulled out my file. There was no good way to do this. The prosecution would be tougher on her than this conversation. We had to face the elephant in the room, and fast.
“Aubrey,” I said. “I need you to come clean with me on the kind of relationship you had with Coach D.”
Her fingers shook as she smoothed that same strand of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t ... we didn’t …”
“Stop,” I said, opening the file. I flipped to the last page of the cell phone report with the transcript of her last few texts on the night of the murder. She took them from me, trembling. Her eyes darted over the words I had already committed to memory.
7:52 p.m.
Aubrey to Coach D: I’m ready to talk.
7:53 p.m.
Coach D: Glad to hear it. You can stop by my planning period on Monday.
7:57 p.m.
Aubrey: No. Now. Tonight.
8:03 p.m.
Coach D: I have a life, Aubrey. Anything school-related can wait for school hours.
8:03 pm.
Aubrey: Stop it. I can’t take another second of this. You know what I told you. I wasn’t kidding around.
8:04 p.m.
Coach D: You need help, Aubrey. I’m not the person qualified to give it. Have you talked to your parents?
8:07 p.m.
Aubrey: Are you serious with me right now?
8:07 p.m.
Coach D: Absolutely. I’d be more than willing to meet with them too. I just don’t want you to do anything you can’t undo.
8:07 p.m.
Aubrey: You’re unbelievable. Pick up your damn phone the next time I call. I hate texting.
8:07 p.m.
Coach D: Under the circumstances, so do I.
8:09 p.m.
Aubrey: I get off work at 10. Meet me then.
8:11 p.m.
Coach D: I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that. Let’s set something up on Monday.
8:11 p.m.
Aubrey: You know exactly why this can’t wait until Monday. Come to Dewar’s. We’ll go to the diner across the street. Bernadette’s.
8:20 p.m.
Aubrey: ??
8:25 p.m.
Coach D: I’m not coming to Bernadette’s.
8:27 p.m.
Aubrey: Then where?
8:28 p.m.
Coach D: Why don’t you swing by my house on your way home?
8:28 p.m.
Aubrey: No way.
8:31 p.m.
Aubrey: Fine. Shamrock Park. I think you know where. That stupid shamrock statue.
8:41 p.m.
Aubrey: I need an answer.
8:45 p.m.
Coach D: Fine.
Aubrey was in tears beside me. Her normally pale color had drained even more. She let the papers fall to the floor.
“Do you need me to explain the case they’re building against you with this?” I said.
“No,” she whispered. I plowed forward anyway.
“Your phone was found a few feet from Coach D’s body. You were seen leaning into his car in the park, right by that stupid shamrock statue you mentioned in your text, at ten thirty. Coach D was found dead at midnight. The blonde hairs they found on his chest were yours. These texts ... Aubrey ... they paint a very disturbing picture. At a minimum, there can be no doubt that you lured Coach Drazdowski to the park that night.”
“Lured?” She broke, sobbing. “Lured? I didn’t lure him. He was a grown man.”
“What was your relationship?”
She drew her knees up, hugging them in front of her in a defensive posture. This girl was a contradiction. In those texts, she sounded forceful, desperate, but absolutely in control. Now, the mere mention of any extracurricular relationship with Larry Drazdowski had her unhinged and trembling. It could just be her natural fear at the charges she faced, but every instinct in me told me there was much more going on. Only one thing was crystal clear to me. I could never call her to the stand if this thing went to trial.
“First-degree murder,” I said. I’d explained all of this to her in our first jailhouse meeting, but she needed to hear it again. “Premeditation. That’s all the prosecutor has to prove. Those texts are why they went with that charge over second-degree murder.”
“Isn’t it hearsay or something?” she said, her voice cracking. “I thought …”
“Stop it,” I said, putting a hand up. “No. It’s not hearsay. These are your words, Aubrey. Or are you trying to tell me you didn’t send these texts?” The instant I said it, I regretted it. Aubrey’s eyes lit up.
“He had my phone,” she said. “Maybe …”
“Again, stop it. I need the truth from you right now. Every bit of it. The rest of these records pinpoint the location of your phone every second up until it was dropped near Coach D. You were texting him from work. From Dewar’s. There will be witnesses that saw you there. Your time card.”
“I didn’t do this,” she said, turning every bit into the little girl I knew she still was. “Ms. Leary ... I know what this looks like. I’m scared. Not stupid. I know what you think those texts mean. But you’re wrong. I wasn’t trying to lure the coach into anything. And he was alive when I left that park.”
“What do you think I think those texts mean?”
Aubrey dropped her eyes. She hugged her knees even tighter.
“What were you angry about?” I asked.
She shook her head no. Aubrey Ames was shutting down on me. With each second, I felt this case sinking fast.
“Those texts don’t prove you murdered him,” I said, changing tactics. “But they’re damaging. No question. Right now, our best friend is the timeline. Aubrey, is there someone ... anyone who can testify to where you were from ten thirty on? You didn’t have your phone at that point. Did you go home?”
“No,” she said. “I just ... I drove around after that.”
“Why? What was going on? What were you so desperate to meet the coach about?”
She ran a hand over her face and then rested her chin on her arm. “He was ... I was going through some stuff.”
“Was he helping you with that? What stuff?”
“I didn’t think I could keep going.”
And we were talking in circles. “He was guarded in that conversation,” I said. “That’s what it looks like. If I’m being honest, without the greater context, those texts sound like the kind of thing I’d tell a client to say if a student contacted him like that after hours. He didn’t want to meet with you alone. Why?”
She let out a bitter laugh then wiped the tears from her cheek. “I was just freaking out, okay? I got into a fight with my dad. Sometimes Coach D
... other kids think he’s easy to talk to about stuff like that.”
I sat back hard. There was movement from deeper in the house. I didn’t like it. Aubrey stiffened as she heard it too. I leaned in.
“Aubrey ... was there something going on at home you wanted to talk to him about?”
She quickly shook her head no. “No. No! It was just me. I get overwhelmed sometimes. My parents don’t like to hear that. Maybe no parent does. They want me to be fine and not worry. Coach D just … at first he ... I just needed to talk. That’s all. I was blowing things out of proportion.”
It made a certain degree of sense. Larry Drazdowski had a reputation of savior to a lot of the troubled kids in Delphi. But by all accounts, Aubrey Ames hadn’t been one of them, from what I’d been able to gather. And she was over a year out of high school.
“I think Aubrey needs a break.”
Dan Ames’s voice startled me as he appeared in the hallway. I leaned down and picked up the cell phone records then shoved them back into my bag.
“Yeah,” Aubrey said, her eyes fixed straight on her father over my shoulder. She dropped her knees and let her feet hit the floor. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so upset.”
Her entire demeanor changed. One quick nod from her father, and Aubrey’s tears dried up. Just how much had he overheard? How much had Aubrey told him before I got here?
“Fine,” I said.
“I’ll try and think of someone I might have seen after I left the park,” she said.
“I’m sure there’s someone,” Dan chimed in. “She hasn’t been sleeping since all this started. You understand.”
“I do,” I said rising. “But you both need to understand how serious this is. I need complete honesty. No surprises. I can’t sugarcoat things. I’m not your enemy. Whatever you think you have to protect, it can’t be from me. I need to know it all.”
“You do,” Dan said. Aubrey folded herself against her father as he wrapped his arms around her. She looked so small.
“I’m going to need access to your medical records, your school records. You made a phone call to a friend of yours earlier in the night. Who was that?”
Dan and Aubrey exchanged a glance. “Kaitlyn,” she said. “Kaitlyn Taylor. She’s my best friend. I swear I don’t remember what we talked about.”
“Fine,” I said. “I’m going to talk to her too. I’m waiting on the medical examiner’s report on Coach D. We’ll have more to talk about when that gets back. In the meantime, anything I ask for, you need to get it for me. No questions. No arguments. This is the rest of your life we’re talking about, Aubrey. Not your mom’s. Not your dad’s. Yours. Do you understand?”
She nodded but dropped her head again.
“Good,” I said. “I need to be one step ahead of the prosecution at all times. Is there anything in those records I just mentioned that’s going to make me unhappy?”
“Aubrey was seeing a therapist a little while back,” Dan said. “Your basic teenage drama.”
Aubrey didn’t make eye contact with me. Teenage drama, my ass, I thought. Something was going on with this girl. Something tricky enough that Larry Drazdowski was bothered by it. And I was starting to believe with all my heart her father was at the center of it.
Chapter 8
Someone was lying. Someone was always lying. In Aubrey’s case, it was more a lie of omission. And her father was a problem. Instinct told me he’d been coaching her all along. She still trusted his advice more than mine. While I understood it, I had to figure out a way to get her past it.
I sat at the light at Granger and Main Street. It was Wednesday, garbage day for the west side of Delphi. The truck ahead of me blocked traffic through the intersection. My phone rang and I hit the Bluetooth button on my dash. It was Miranda.
“Hey, there,” I answered, hoping to God she wasn’t calling about Matty again. He’d sobered up by noon the other day and I drove him back home with his promise he’d lay off the hard stuff for a while. I texted Tina, his estranged wife, to tell her what happened. She took it fairly well, considering, and promised to check in on him and call if she needed me. I didn’t even bother calling Joe about this one. He’d been handling Matty’s crises solo for plenty of years.
“Just checking in,” she said in her bright, cheery voice. Miranda had offered no judgment or probing questions about Matty. She just handled everything like the unflappable pro she was. Whatever Bennett and Cooper, P.C. was paying her, it wasn’t nearly enough. I knew she wanted to retire for good within the next year. I had plans to make her a different offer. I just needed the funds to make it possible.
“I’m on my way to interview a witness for the Ames case. I should be back just before two. Anything pressing?”
“Nope,” she sighed. “You’ve got a pretrial on Lorraine Graham’s DUI case at three thirty. Then the Delanceys are coming in at four thirty. You want me to push that back?”
“No,” I answered. “Graham will likely plead out today. She’s not eligible for diversion. She’s got a drunk and disorderly from 2015 hanging out there. But I’m pretty sure I can get a reduction if she agrees to a ninety-day program. I should be out of there no later than four fifteen.”
“Gotcha,” Miranda said. “You just be careful out there. We’ve got some interesting voicemails this morning.”
“I’m sure we do. Sorry things have been so ... interesting ... lately.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Miranda said. I could tell she was smiling from the change in her tone. “I’ve got a feeling about this one. Keep digging.”
“So do I,” I answered as I finally got through the light and made the turn down Granger.
I parked the car and leafed through the police report as it pertained to Kaitlyn. She hadn’t told them much. She’d merely confirmed she and Aubrey talked at 10:22 on the night of Coach D’s murder. It had been brief. Just firming up plans to go to a concert the following weekend. Still, the contact happened within fifteen minutes of when Aubrey was spotted in Shamrock Park with Coach Drazdowski.
Kaitlyn lived in a three-story apartment building next to the busiest gas station in Delphi. Years ago, I’d helped Matty get a place here. Back then, the place was cheap but clean. I’d given him six months’ rent while he looked for work. He’d lasted here a whole year before getting evicted for non-payment.
Kaitlyn lived in a first-floor, corner unit. I knocked softly on the door and watched the curtains ruffle before she answered.
She was pretty, full-figured with stunning red hair and soft green eyes. She wore a Mickey’s Bar tank top and black skirt. I’d done my research. Her shift didn’t start for another hour.
“Miss Taylor?” I offered her my hand to shake.
Kaitlyn gave me a deeply dimpled smile and met me with a formidable grip.
“You can call me Kaitlyn,” she said. “Come on in. Sorry the place is kind of a dump. But ... it’s all mine.”
“It’s okay. And it’s fine. Thanks for meeting with me.”
Kaitlyn had one of the single-bedroom units with the kitchen off the living room to the left when I walked in. She had mismatched, but comfortable furniture and a huge flat-screen TV on the largest wall. She gestured to the couch and I took a seat. She chose the futon right across from it and turned it so we were facing each other squarely.
“Oh ... sorry. Do you want anything? I’ve got some bottled water in the fridge. I can make you coffee if you don’t mind K-Cups.”
“Really, nothing. Thanks for the offer though.”
“Have you spoken with Aubrey lately?” I asked. Her answer damn well better be no or it was something else I’d have to remind Aubrey of.
“Uh ... no. Not since ... I mean ... I tried calling her. Her dad got on and said it wasn’t a good time. She doesn’t have a cell phone anymore, I don’t think.”
I relaxed a little. At least Aubrey and Dan Ames were following the most important directive I’d given them.
“Gotcha.”
“Is she okay? I mean ... this whole thing. It’s been nuts. The shit people have been saying. People know we were friends. I might lose my job over that.”
My heart sank. Kaitlyn seemed nice enough, but she was also not much more than a kid herself. With public opinion so firmly against Aubrey, no question Kaitlyn Taylor would face pressure to turn on her.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“What did she say? I mean ... about what happened? No one will tell me anything.”
“Kaitlyn.” I sat back and crossed my legs. “I’m not really at liberty to discuss that. I just wanted to ask you a few questions, get some background information. Is that okay with you?”
“What? Er. Of course. Yeah, that was pretty dumb of me to ask. I’m just worried about her, you know? Aubrey’s ... well …”
“She’s what?” I said. Her posture was telling. She sat at the literal edge of her seat, wringing her hands. She looked ready to burst. Whether it was with gossip or nerves remained to be seen.
“How close were you and Aubrey?” I asked. “I mean ... up until this ... did you talk daily?”
“Oh yeah. Like tons of times a day. She’s one of the people I text constantly. And she does to me.”
“Right. And can we just ... let’s take away the last week and everything that’s happened with Coach D. Before that, how were things with her? With the two of you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Was she acting normally? Was there anything bothering her that you could share with me?”
Kaitlyn’s shoulders dropped. “Aubrey’s Aubrey. She’s always been kind of high strung. One of those people it doesn’t take much to set off, you know?”
“Okay ... what about a boyfriend? Does she have one?”
Kaitlyn shook her head quickly. “No. No way. She dated one of the basketball players in high school. Ben Manning. But they broke up right after senior prom.”
“Ben Manning,” I repeated. I took out a notepad and wrote it down. “So he was one of the coach’s players?”